Do You Love?
by Arigatomina
Summary: Yaoi, KuroFay. Everything's changed since their time in Shura, and Kurogane is torn over his twisted relationship with Fay. They really are from different worlds...
1. Do You Love?

My first Tsubasa fic! Wheet! And it's a series of one-shots, so no one can complain about my writing it instead of updating multi-parters. ;p

**Author's Notes:** Possible manga spoilers. It looks like the anime skipped right over the Shara-Shura arc in the manga. You don't need to know all the details to read this fic, just that the arc did happen in this timeline - between Outo country and the country with the race in the anime. Basic SPOILER: In the Shura / Shara manga arc, the gang are taken to another world very suddenly and somehow Kurogane and Fay get dropped off six months before Syaoran, Sakura, and Mokona. Meaning for six months they're waiting in a country that's in the middle of a neverending war - and without Mokona they can't communicate. Kurogane sort of understands the language, it being close to Japanese, so Fay lets him do all the talking, they join the army, and they fight until the kids eventually show up. The manga gives next to no details about how the two got along for half a year without being able to talk, but Fay is notably clingy afterward when they switch worlds - so they don't get split up again. That's really all you need to know.

This fic was intended to be a introspective one-shot from Kurogane's point of view. But I have another unfinished one-shot from Fay's perspective that fits the timeline very well, so I'm combined the two and turning it into a multi-parter. The first part is dark and angsty (Kuro-centric) and the second part is light and playful (Fay-centric). I expect the second part to be done soon.

Category: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Yaoi, TWT  
Pairing: KuroganexFay  
**_Warnings:_** reference to angst, violence, and lemons  
Author: Arigatomina  
Email: arigatoumina (a) hotmail . com  
Website: www . geocities . com / arigatomina

**Do You Love?**

They weren't lovers. Kurogane didn't know if there was even a term for what they were. They were companions in their travels and they occasionally had sex, but they weren't lovers. To have that word used in reference to them was perverse. There was no love in what they did, only frustration, need, and fleeting pleasure. And there was guilt. For him, there was always guilt.

How was that fair? Why was he the one left with guilt?

Fay used him. The mage taunted him, encouraged him, and flaunted how easily he could get what he wanted from him. So why was he left with guilt for having given in? It wasn't weakness on his part to accept what was offered to him. It was nothing more than need, convenience, a means of mutual release. They coupled like animals because they were animals.

He'd never shied away from violence. He was a murderer. Bloodlust on a battlefield, crushing any who dared to challenge him...he'd thrived on it for so long. Carnal lust in the bedroom should have been expected from him.

It _had_ been expected from him. He'd had many lovers who'd encouraged him to use his strength, who'd chosen him _because_ of his power and the danger he embodied. It hadn't surprised him that Fay wanted him for the same reason. No, what surprised him, what left him filled with self loathing and that curdled guilt was that he'd given in.

He couldn't explain why he felt guilty for giving in.

He'd tried to tell himself he hadn't done anything wrong because Fay was a man. His eager lovers in the past had been foolish women, who never realized he was holding back, who were too stupid to be grateful that he held back for their sake. They'd never been on the battlefield with him, so they had no idea what they were asking for when they encouraged him to let go. He told himself that Fay, being a man who'd fought at his side, knew exactly what would happen if he were pushed too far. Fay had to know. Because even when he was hurting him, Fay kept pushing and pushing until he snapped. Fay refused to settle for anything less than his full strength, drove him on until he released every bit of his raw, unfettered, lust. Fay wanted it, enjoyed it, and he wouldn't lie to himself and say it wasn't pleasurable for him as well.

And still he felt like a monster. That first time, and every time since...the feeling was always the same. He'd learned to leave when they were finished, because after a while he couldn't stand to look at him, to face what he'd done. Once he realized Fay wouldn't complain, didn't care enough to protest, it was almost easy to leave him afterward.

And that made him feel just as bad. What kind of monster just left his...not lover, he couldn't call them lovers...his sexual partner, then...vulnerable and alone like some _thing_ to be used and discarded?

He'd never enjoyed sleeping with a woman after sex. He wouldn't sleep with her. But he'd hold her while she slept, or at least stay in the same bed with her till she woke and was capable of going on her own. He didn't enjoy it, but he'd always done it because it was the right thing to do. It was the civilized thing to do.

But him and Fay...what they did, what _he_ did...it wasn't civilized. So why should he care if he acted as much like an animal after as he did during?

He didn't _know_ Fay liked to be held afterward. He'd assumed the man did, because he was the touchy sort. He'd tried to assuage his guilt by being gentle while he slept, assuming the man would like that. He had reigned in his quick temper until Fay left the bed. Even when Fay woke and teased him, mocked him with that infuriating smirk, he'd refused to rise to the bait and had been as gentle as he could because he'd thought that would make up for it. It wasn't even that difficult to be gentle because he'd always been careful with his lovers. It was natural to do that for Fay as well, and he had done it because he thought the man liked it. But he didn't _know_.

Fay hadn't said a word the first time he'd left him to wake up alone. He hadn't acted any differently. For all he knew, Fay didn't like to be held afterward. He didn't like it, so maybe Fay didn't either. And if Fay didn't like it, he had every reason to stop doing it and no reason to feel guilty for stopping. He still did.

It was wrong to hurt him and then hold him like he hadn't. It was wrong to hurt him and then leave him like he hadn't. It didn't matter what he did afterward. Nothing could change the fact that he hurt him. And that was wrong. He'd never done that to anyone. That was why they weren't lovers. Because a lover didn't _do_ that to his lover. A lover didn't provoke his lover into doing that _to_ him. The entire thing was wrong and he _knew_ that.

Why the hell did he keep doing it?

It had started in Shura, when he and Fay were separated from the kids and abandoned in a world where they couldn't communicate.

Fay not being able to talk should have been a good thing. He'd thought it was at first. The mage had jibbered at him just the same, but no one had any idea what he was saying, so it was easy to ignore him. Kurogane had been occupied finding a place for them in the middle of a war, ensuring housing and food - and a suitable occupation as soldiers - while they waited for the meatbun and the kids to show up. Unlike many of the others, that world had been perfect for him, full of challenging enemies, competitive allies, and enough violence to keep him satisfied through the long wait. He'd been in his element, at home with the soldiers who spoke a language close enough to Japanese for him to communicate.

He hadn't paid attention when Fay stopped following him around, aside from being glad the stupid mage was no longer drawing attention to himself with his pale hair, willowy figure, and constant smiles. Their first month, Kurogane had been forced to protect the fool more times than he could count. It had taken a handful of beatings before the men stopped offering him things in exchange for a few hours with his pretty little 'camp follower.' So he'd been glad when Fay started sticking to their tent when they weren't fighting the opposing army.

It was less troublesome. He'd gotten very tired of yelling at a seemingly bewildered Fay for taunting the soldiers with his careless attitude and simpleminded smiles. Fay seemed incapable of learning the language and Kurogane hadn't been able to convince the others that his companion wasn't the mentally challenged bed-warmer he appeared to be. Even Fay's superior skill with a bow and arrow didn't change the fact that he babbled meaningless sounds every time he opened his mouth. The men resented Kurogane for flaunting Fay and refusing to share. To them, there was no reason a man would keep a pretty companion too dumb to speak unless it was for sex. Fay's natural behavior ruined any attempt Kurogane made to convince the soldiers he wasn't what he looked like. So it was good that Fay stayed away from them.

Kurogane hadn't been the least bit suspicious. Well, maybe a little, but he'd been too grateful to worry about it. He'd always known Fay was serious behind those fake smiles of his, so it was nice to see him drop them. He was finally acting like a normal person. He continued to smile on the battlefield, but it was a dangerous, taunting smile that left his enemies in fear of more than his perfect aim. The men noticed the change as well because they began to avoid him as much as he avoided them. The offers stopped, and Kurogane assumed they'd figured out the danger gleaming behind that idiotic front.

He stopped watching him. He didn't notice when Fay began spending more time on the practice range than he did in the tent. He wouldn't have cared if he had noticed. When Fay wasn't acting like a careless fool, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He didn't need a bodyguard. Kurogane ignored him.

He kept right on ignoring him until one of the men suggested Fay switch squads so he wouldn't have to limp back to Kurogane's tent at night. They'd made a reputation for themselves by then, him and Fay, as the strongest members of Yasha's clan. The sudden suggestion had been so similar to the original harassment that Kurogane had been furious. It didn't help that the man who suggested it was a comrade of his, someone he'd sparred and drank with enough for the man to know better. Then he found out why _that_ had started up again. There were rumors.

He refused to believe them. Fay hadn't behaved any differently around him. He didn't move like he'd been attacked. He certainly didn't act afraid, of any of them. There was only one person in any world Fay was afraid of, and Kurogane was sure he'd notice if that ever changed. So he decided the rumors had to be false. What they were whispering couldn't have happened. Even Fay wasn't a good enough actor to hide something like that. There would be marks, winces, maybe a return of that desperate smile the mage used as a shield between his emotions and the world. There would be clear signs, and Kurogane would have noticed.

There weren't signs, but there were marks. Fay was a much better actor than he'd given him credit for. When the rumor came again, weeks later, Kurogane decided to prove that it wasn't true. He knew Fay, knew the mage was girlish and soft despite his strange combat skills, or maybe because of them, maybe that was what let him dance on air when he fought. He knew if anyone had hit him, done that to him, it would be written on his skin.

And it was. He'd cornered Fay in their tent and caught his hand. Those formerly blue eyes, now as black as his own, widened. Kurogane ignored his surprised reaction. He didn't bother trying to explain with words. He just pulled Fay's loose sleeve back and looked at him. It was there, written in clear shades of pasty yellow, ash green, and lavender gray, all over his arm. He knew then.

He was livid. He shook him and hissed curses in his face that he knew Fay wouldn't understand. Fay didn't need to understand the words themselves. No language barrier was an excuse for this. Exhaustion, hunger, they didn't have to use words to express a basic human need. Fay didn't need to speak to ask for his help. All he'd had to do was show him the marks and he'd have known exactly what had happened. There was no reason to hide it.

Why would he? Pride? Embarrassment? He was only one man. However powerful he was in his home world with that magic he claimed to have but refused to use, he was still just one man. They'd been tossed into this realm together. Kurogane might not have liked him half the time, but he was still there with him. They fought together almost every other night on the field. They watched each other's backs and moved as a pair. Even in the words before this one, he'd protected him again and again. He hated that it was necessary, that Fay refused to use magic to defend himself and made it so he _needed_ protection. But he accepted it. He begrudged being forced into it, but he accepted it, and he'd protected him when he wouldn't protect himself. When he couldn't protect himself.

And this was different. If even half of the rumors were true, and they were, the marks attested to that, then Fay _couldn't_ protect himself. Hell, even if he'd used his supposed magic, it might not have helped him. These weren't just skilled soldiers and mercenaries. Compared to Fay they might as well have been a different species. Every member of Yasha's clan, even the clumsy ones who did nothing more than watch the horses, they were all bigger than Fay.

He should have expected it. He blamed himself. But he blamed Fay, too, because he should have told him. The mage hadn't even hinted at it. He'd kept quiet about it and let it happen a second time. And maybe more than twice. Because there had been _rumors_.

That was worse than anything because Fay sure as hell hadn't been the one to talk about it. They were bragging about it. Maybe everyone knew who _they_ were, everyone but him. Because no one would tell him who had started the rumors, and Fay refused to point the men out.

He'd tried to make him, had dragged him out and tried to get some response, a flinch when he saw one of the ones responsible, anything. And Fay had simply looked at him like _he_ was the crazy one. The men who were on good terms with them had the nerve to look bewildered by his behavior. He'd been humiliated and furious and if he hadn't realized he was making a bigger bruise on Fay's wrist than the ones already there, he would have dragged him through the entire camp and right on to the next one until he had a target to take his fury out on.

He finally let him go. He followed him back to their tent and glared for days, weeks, as Fay continued to act as if nothing had happened. His anger smoldered and lashed out on the battlefield and off. The men avoided him, and they avoided Fay more than ever because now things were reversed. Where Fay had followed him like a shadow in the beginning, now he was the one following. The suicidal idiot wouldn't tell him anything, and he wouldn't stay in their tent. He followed him because he still didn't know where it had happened. When it had happened. Fay had always been in their tent when he came back in the evenings. He'd been ignoring him so long that he had no idea what Fay did with his time.

He could have been going anywhere. It could have _happened_ anywhere. So Kurogane followed him everywhere. The men noticed. They avoided them. And the rumors stopped. With them went any chance of finding his targets.

That wasn't acceptable. He reigned himself in and allowed more distance between them. He'd stalked enemies before, hidden in shadows as only the best could do. He let the distance widen until he knew Fay couldn't tell if he were being watched or not. If Fay couldn't tell, with all his uncanny senses, then no one else could, either. He knew if he wanted to find the men, he'd have to catch them in the act.

Eventually, he did. He wondered for months after if Fay had even bothered to change his routine after the first attack. The mage walked the same path day after day, and he didn't seem at all surprised to see the men who were waiting for him that day. There were four of them. Kurogane recognized two as members of the eastern camp. He'd never spoken to them, but he'd seen them on the battlefield and acknowledged their strength. A part of him resisted the idea that these two were the ones he'd been looking for because they were too skilled, too powerful to stoop this low.

Fay stopped and watched them surround him, and Kurogane thought maybe it wasn't them. Because Fay didn't look upset or worried. His entire demeanor was too casual. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms as if it was nothing more than a sparring session. When one of them stepped toward him, he raised a hand and the man immediately stopped, acknowledging it as a silent request to wait. They waited and watched as Fay undid his shirt halfway.

Kurogane was shocked. He hadn't even considered that the rumored attacks might have been welcome encounters. It was unthinkable. Even seeing how calm and meticulous Fay's motions were, he refused to believe it. He'd never had all that much respect for the man to begin with, but this was just...too much. He was disgusted and so furious he wanted to beat Fay himself. He might have done just that if he hadn't been afraid of his own anger. He knew that if he stepped out of his shadowy spot he wouldn't be able to stop beating him until he was dead. He felt betrayed and so angry, but he knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he did that.

Fay pulled a dark bundle from his robe and set it aside. Kurogane recognized it instantly. It was the same outfit Fay always wore when he practiced, on the battlefield, and he'd even seen him sleep in it a few times. He'd always been secretly amused to note that no matter how rough the battle was, Fay managed to keep his outfit from having a single tear. It was one of those quirks that made Kurogane roll his eyes, just one more oddity he'd come to expect from someone as strange as Fay.

And now he was confused because Fay had turned back to the waiting men with that dangerous, taunting, smile of his. When they attacked, he struck back, dancing and keeping that smile as if he honestly thought he could hold his own. Kurogane wondered if he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion and this was just a private sparring session with overwhelming odds. He didn't know what to think. Fay was always with him on the battlefield, so he must have recognized the same two he'd recognized. He had to know he didn't stand a chance against either one of them, certainly not both at once, and the other two as well, not without a weapon, without anyone to watch his back.

They got him down and he struggled, lashing out as he was pressed into the ground. Their taunts drifted back to Kurogane and his anger returned in full force. But it wasn't directed at Fay this time. Because he thought he understood Fay's twisted thinking. They were mocking him for being stubborn and congratulating him for putting up a good fight. And that was all it was, a good, but inevitably hopeless fight. Fay had walked into it like he expected it because he _had_ expected it. He'd maintained his routine because if it didn't happen here, it would happen somewhere else. The only alternative was to hide in the tent and never come out for anything but the battles. And he'd already done that for months. Maybe he even thought it was worth this not to be isolated from everyone.

If there was one thing Kurogane was sure of, it was that Fay didn't like to be alone. And he'd never seen him more alone than he was in this country. Fay hadn't come to him for help because if he had, Kurogane would have forced him to stay in the tent where he'd be safe. Safe, but alone, because Kurogane had given up trying to communicate with him almost as soon as they arrived. He didn't even look at him unless he had a reason to. Did that make it partially his fault?

The guilt had started there and it didn't go away after he'd beaten Fay's attackers as close to death as he could without actually killing them. Fay looked so surprised to see him there that he almost smirked despite himself. Then Fay smiled. It was that sweet lying smile he hated, but he hadn't seen it in so long he was almost relieved by its return. He pulled the mage up and resisted the urge to shove him away when Fay glomped him with a soft babble of seemingly happy sounds. He heard part of his name mixed in with what was no doubt teasing idiocy. Kuro was the only thing Fay said that he understood. But then, Kuro was the only part of his name Fay had _ever_ gotten right, even when they spoke the same language.

Fay pulled the dark outfit on over his torn clothing, so no one stared at them when they walked back. It wasn't until they were in their tent that Kurogane realized the significance of that. He wondered if Fay had been carrying it with him every day since the last time, just in case it happened again, in case he needed to hide the signs from him. The foresight in that was so twisted Kurogane found himself angry at him again. With the language barrier he couldn't even explain to Fay why he was so angry, and that made it even worse. He wanted to shake him, to scream at him until he stopped smiling that fake smile and explained what the hell was so wrong with his mind that he endangered himself like that.

He didn't scream because the words would have had no meaning to Fay, but he did shake him. Hard. And when that smile remained steadfast on Fay's face and the mage turned away from him with an amused little laugh, he did more than shake him. He jerked him back around and shoved him up against the support beam where he couldn't turn away. He cursed him and glared down at him. He couldn't understand why his size and raw fury didn't intimidate Fay at least enough for him to lose that infernal smile. Fay pushed at his chest, but it was a boneless, playful motion with no intent behind it.

Did he think this was a game?

He shoved him harder against the beam and hissed his name at him. It was the only word he knew that Fay would recognize, one that sounded the same no matter what language they were speaking. And finally that smile faltered.

The response should have made him feel as if he'd won. Fay opened his eyes and looked at him, really looked. But the look was...

Suddenly he wished Fay would close his eyes and smile that stupid smile again. He'd wanted to intimidate him, to evoke a response, any _genuine_ response. But he hadn't expected Fay to look so surprised and...wary...? Had he actually scared him?

Fay was never afraid of him. He knew better. No matter how much he wanted to slice him open for tormenting him, he'd never done it. He never would. That was why Fay continued to taunt him, pick at him, and drive him insane. Because he knew he'd get away with it.

So why was he suddenly staring at him like he'd been betrayed? He'd shook him a little harder than normal, but it wasn't like he'd actually _hurt_ him.

Fay bowed his head and his slender shoulders shook beneath Kurogane's hands. The quiet laugh startled him so much that he tightened his grip instead of jerking away like he'd intended to. Then Fay pressed closer to him and he realized what it was the mage had found so amusing. Sometime during his anger and frustration, his body had reacted in a very noticeable way. Noticeable, especially with Fay's lithe form pressing up against him.

He was mortified. And yet...Fay eased closer until he was flush against him and he'd never wanted anyone so much in his life. He struggled with the need, his body twitching like a bowstring pulled too tight. A hand slid past his chest and into his hair, and he found himself staring down at a familiar smile. It was that liquid, dangerous, smile Fay wore on the battlefield. He finally realized why that smile seemed more natural than the fake happy one Fay always wore. It was dark, knowing and determined, and bitterly, painfully, real. Suddenly he didn't think he liked it anymore.

Then Fay reached up and licked his neck, a fluid heat that arced up and ended just shy of his lips. He shuddered and almost crushed him in response, his arms falling to pull him closer still. Fay's body writhed against him and he didn't care about smiles, lack of communication, or anything but the feel of it. He pressed him up against the beam and devoured his mouth until Fay's hands pulled in his hair. He wanted to take him right there, but Fay whispered heatedly and pulled his head back so he was looking over his shoulder. At Kurogane's bed. Even though Fay's was closer.

What had followed was a blur. He remembered parts of it like bits of a fevered dream. Fay had never stopped moving. He'd been careful at first. He was sure he'd started out careful because he was always careful. But Fay had nipped at him and scratched him, taunted him with looks that left him infuriated even without understanding the whispers, and then he'd touched him like no woman ever had and dared him with his eyes and he'd reacted violently. He'd reacted just the way Fay had known he would.

Once he gave in, the taunting whispers stopped. Fay never made a sound. He remembered how Fay had looked as he arched up against him, his mouth open in choked gasps, his eyes blurry and closed too quickly to read. He remembered wishing he would moan, whimper, anything to reassure him that those expressions reflected pleasure and not pain. He remembered catching himself when he realized Fay was crying, and how those slender arms had pulled him closer with a desperate strength he wouldn't have believed Fay possessed. Everything else was a haze of carnal violence.

He'd never fallen asleep after sex before that first time with Fay, and he never did again. But that time he had. He'd woken to find himself drained and stunned, horrified even. Despite Fay's peaceful, sleeping face, he could see the damage he'd done to him. He'd never marked a lover before. He'd even drawn blood, from the bite near his neck and from the entry. He'd never had a male lover before, but he knew how it was supposed to be done.

Had he not prepared him at all? He knew better than that. Yet he could barely remember anything that even slightly resembled foreplay. He knew he'd wanted to touch and explore him. He still did. But he couldn't remember doing it. Everything he remembered was rough and desperate. He'd made him cry, _Fay_ _crying_, and he hadn't stopped. If it weren't for the sticky proof on their stomachs he'd never have believed Fay could have enjoyed anything they'd done together.

His guilt had been overwhelming then. He'd cleaned them up and lay there waiting for Fay to wake and watching the bruises form overnight. He'd held him, thinking Fay would like to wake up like that, even if he were rightfully upset at him when he did wake. He started a list that night, one he built on over the next few months, of all the things he had to talk to Fay about once the kids arrived and they could communicate again. Looking back, it was funny all the things that had gone through his mind while he waited for morning. The extended silence had finally gotten to him and he'd unconsciously filled it with his own thoughts.

Nothing that morning was the way it should have been. He was uncomfortable. He couldn't have apologized, even if he knew how, because words were useless. Hand gestures seemed moronic, and it was hard just to keep his temper. The way Fay reacted was wrong, from his clueless expression to the way he cocked his head to the side and felt Kurogane's forehead, like he was the one with problems. Kurogane glared at the bruises and, with a smirk and a brush of his fingers, Fay made him aware of the bloody scratches on his own back. Then he laughed quietly, patted his head, and left the bed to nap in his own until breakfast. Kurogane was left growling under his breath and staring at his blanketed form with outrage and more than a little outright confusion.

He thought of a lot of things after that. He thought of even more a month later when a sack of crudely made sake led them to the same bed a second time. He wondered how sex was viewed in Fay's world because Fay was treating him as casually as he'd treated those women in his own world. He wondered if all that girlish romantic drivel Fay had spoken in Outo was as fake as those smiles he'd worn, because as overly friendly and tactile as Fay was with him, he wasn't any worse than he'd been before. His list of things he wanted to ask him grew longer even as he realized he'd never speak half the things on it.

By the time the kids showed up, he'd figured a few things out. He'd realized, after seeing Fay knocked from his mount during battle, that Fay could have killed those men. If they'd come at him with the intent to kill, rather than to use, Kurogane was sure he would have. He understood that Fay had killed before, perhaps as often as he had, and that he was loathe to do it again. A part of him had to marvel at that, like his decision not to use magic, even if he didn't agree with it. He also understood, when Fay came to him that night, that he was being used too much to feel as guilty as he did.

So many unspoken words and the first things they said to each other, once they realized the kids were close enough for them to communicate, were plans on how to greet them on the battlefield. And once they were reunited and swept off to the next world, all those words seemed meaningless. Fay seemed to revert to his old self without a moment's hesitation and Kurogane was almost relieved. The only thing that was changed between them was that they now knew each other too well not to notice when the other was interested, and they were too close to the children to do anything about it without sneaking away like thieves.

If Kurogane had ever doubted who was in control, a flash of that knowing, simmering, smile reminded him. Perhaps if he'd spoken a few of those questions on his list, things would have been different. He still considered asking, now and then, mostly when he found himself sneaking back to his own bed in the middle of the night, torn between wanting to stay and wanting to get as far away as possible. He flipped from one extreme to the other and felt lost in his own mind. He avoided Fay during the day, was harsher than ever in rebuking every gesture of friendship, all the while he spent his nights watching him wince from dreams, all but desperate to reach out and comfort him. The next day things might be skewed entirely, with his temper mellowed enough to ignore the teasing closeness until he could express his frustration in another of those rushed and silent encounters mere hours after the kids were tucked away for the night.

Their relationship was diseased, tainted like an infected wound. As long as Fay was in control, it wouldn't get better. He knew that, and he knew he was to blame because he could have taken control from the very beginning. He still could. Something was holding him back and a part of him wondered if it was fear. What they had now was so unnatural if they were separated they could walk away. They'd both benefit from walking away. How different would it be if they were lovers, instead? Would Fay love him? If he did, would he be able to forgive himself for abandoning him and returning to his own world? He didn't need Tomoyo or a curse to tell him that doing something like that would be as bad as killing him. He had the kid as a prime example of unrequited love and sacrifice. If Fay weren't already broken, he would be once Kurogane got his wish.

He didn't consider how the inevitable separation would affect himself. As far as he was concerned, a part of him already cared too much, not just for Fay, but for all of them. Even if he were there to see the final feather returned to Sakura, he'd miss them when he returned home. And knowing Fay would spend the rest of his life switching worlds, alone, would nag at his conscience for years after. The guilt would never end if he had to deal with breaking his heart as well as abandoning him. Because even as twisted as their relationship was, he had a horrible suspicion that Fay could easily love him. The smallest gesture of honest affection might be too much. He'd seen it the few times Fay's mask had fallen. Whatever Fay's king had done to send him running for the rest of his life, it wasn't enough to stop him from loving him. Fay had too much capacity for love and Kurogane didn't want any part of it.

Guilt was better. He still thought it was premature, since he hadn't done anything Fay hadn't taunted him into doing. He didn't understand why it was so nagging and fresh. But he was familiar with guilt and he could live with it. He'd assuage it by protecting Fay and resisting him as much as possible. That was enough. It had to be enough, because that was all he had to offer.

-.-  
TBC


	2. Do You Feel?

**Author's Notes:** This isn't as light as I thought it would be, and it's not entirely from Fay's point of view. I don't think it really fits as 'the other half' of the first chapter. But it's in the same timeline, and it gives more of Fay's side of things, so I'm putting it here. I may need to do an actual multi-part TRC fic so I can do ficlets in chronological order. Not drabbles, mind you, I'm talking ficlets - 2000+ word oneshots. All these flashback references make me want to read the original scenes. Gotta write them if I want that.

_Category:_ Anime, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Yaoi, TWT  
_Warnings:_ reference to sex, broody/Fay  
**_Pairings:_** KuroganexFay  
_Author:_ Arigatomina  
_Email:_ arigatoumina (a) hotmail . com  
_Website:_ www . arigatomina . com

**Do You Feel?**

Kurogane was staring again. From the intensity, he had to be close, probably in the shadowed trees lining the edge of the lake, or perhaps on the path that led to the low wooden dock.

Fay gave a soft _hmm_ and closed his eyes with a lazy smile. He knew the moment that gaze latched onto him. It was every bit as heavy and oppressive as the heat, and just as satisfying. Neither of them had spoken since the kids had gone for the day, but how that gaze kept finding its way back to him proved the other man was having second thoughts. Poor Kuro-rin really was far too sensitive for his own good.

Fay nestled his cheek more comfortably in his curved arm. His right hand dangled down until his fingertips touched the water below. He leaned closer to the edge of the wooden dock, his eyes easing open to glance over the ripples he'd made. As glassy and cool as the lake appeared, the water was warm and had just the faintest acrid taste to it. It seemed everything in this world was heated. And to think, Sakura-chan's home world was so hot it didn't even have lakes. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Heavy boots tread through thickly humid grass behind him. Sensitive, Fay mused, because Kurogane was more than capable of moving silently when he chose to. He was sure it had to do with being a ninja, or shinobi, or whatever that lifestyle was that made the swordsman such a proud and stubborn person. And he was cute, too, thinking Fay needed a warning of his approach. He'd known it was only a matter of time before Kurogane would have to say something. That was the reason he'd encouraged Mokona to go with Sakura-chan, after all, so he'd have plenty of time to wait for Kurogane's sense of responsibility to win out over his stubbornness.

"You're going to burn," Kurogane muttered. His tone was annoyed, even resentful, as if he'd be held responsible. And he probably would be, knowing how quick Sakura and that talking meat bun were to believe anything the mage said. He stopped a foot from the pale body stretched out near the edge of the dock and scowled down at that blond head.

Fay pulled his hand slowly away from the water. His languid response made it blatantly obvious that he'd been enjoying himself. That, or he wanted Kurogane to _believe_ he'd been enjoying himself. He propped an elbow beneath him, careful to keep from dripping water on the white cloak he'd stretched out on. Then he sent a beaming smile over his shoulder at the shadow-casting ninja.

"I'm more likely to melt than to burn," Fay said, in a lilting, careless voice. "It's a wonder Sakura-chan can walk so far in that heavy dress of hers."

"They live in a desert," said Kurogane. "You already know that."

Oh, yes, Kuro-rin was definitely torn between responsibility and stubborness, or maybe it was stubborn pride and guilt. Either way, Fay smiled wider and went back to watching the two suns reflect off the surface of the lake. The smaller one glowed blue, which was much prettier when seen on the water than in the sky. It didn't burn the eyes as much. He wondered vaguely if the people of this world knew what that was, that small blue sun that wasn't a sun, yet didn't give off the faintest hint of magic.

"I remember Syaoran-kun saying that," Fay agreed pleasantly, "but that doesn't mean I _know_. I've never lived in a real desert. Just the idea of humans living in a place with nothing but dry dirt all the time...it sounds like a nightmare to me. What would they eat? They'd have to be _cannibals_!"

Kurogane twitched at how happily that last bit was spoken. He just knew if the white meat bun had been there, the thing would be bouncing around and chirping _'cannibals - cannibals'_ in a similarly cheerful singsong voice. But since that particular nuisance was not there to take the mage's annoying comments and amplify them to being ten times more annoying, Kurogane managed to ignore the bait. Instead, he used his proximity to verify what he'd suspected from a distance. They'd been too reckless. Again. As always. The mage didn't have a lick a self-preservation in that fey head of his, but Kurogane had known better.

They'd been left behind repeatedly since reaching this world. Syaoran had located the feather that first day, or rather, the person holding the feather had located them. Now the boy was dedicated to watching while Sakura proved herself to the native woman, who, according to Fay, had enough magic of her own to not heed the feather's attractive lure. Rather than challenge her, the kid had taken his usual route of politely requesting the feather's return, with the threat of violence reserved only if the request were rejected.

The woman agreed, providing Sakura could prove herself to the members of their tribe. What this entailed, exactly, Kurogane still didn't know. He and Fay had been rudely denied entrance to the village. The woman had taken one look at them and expressly forbid it. Whether it was their age, his eyes, or Fay's inherent magic that set her off was anyone's guess.

"Sit down, Kuro-lin," Fay hummed, without glancing back. "You're in my light. You said I looked like a ghost, ne?"

"So now you'll look like a lobster instead," Kurogane said, almost by reflex. "Real smart."

He hunkered down, but only so he'd be able to see the mage's eyes. It was obvious to him what Fay was trying to do, encouraging him to get so close. Just like he knew damned well the man hadn't stripped off his shirt in order to 'bathe in the suns' while they waited the day away.

"Just come out and say it, already," Kurogane muttered, staring askance at him.

"Hmm?" Aqua eyes peaked through thick black lashes, reflecting Fay's wide smile. "What do you want me to say, Kuro-pii? Fishing for compliments? How _cute_...! I didn't know you were so insecure."

Kurogane scowled at that teasing smile and resisted a sudden urge to shove the mage off the dock and into the water. It would be very easy to do with the way Fay was stretched out, only half a sideways roll from the edge. He probably would have done it, too, if it weren't for the murky brown bruises on the pale shoulder closest to him. He really should have known better. The mage looked like a heavy breeze could knock him over and the lack of so much as a grass stain on the man's bare feet proved he glided more often than he walked. As bruised as his arms were, Kurogane could just imagine what his hips looked like.

Those steely red eyes widened suddenly and darted away. Fay smothered a laugh into his curved arm. Kurogane's discomfort was so obvious he might as well have blushed bright red. So _cute_...!

He'd never get tired of teasing him, especially right now. In the space of a day, Kurogane had gone from being bold, angry, and hungry, to being confused, tentative, and quite possibly even more frustrated than he'd been last night. If Fay hadn't enjoyed tormenting him so much, he might have felt sorry for the man.

"Mou ii," Fay murmured into his arm. "I didn't complain and I don't plan to. It's just too hot to ruin the only shirt I have. I'd get all..._sticky_."

Kurogane twitched. Now he really wanted to shove the idiot into the lake. From the looks of the mage's skin, he was probably lucky he could even walk straight. Although, he had to admit the man had been as graceful and sleek as ever when he'd stretched out on his cloak, all creamy skin and shadowed bruises offset by snowy white cloth...

Kurogane growled under his breath. Any more thoughts like that and Fay definitely wouldn't be able to walk straight. Fucking self-destructive tease.

"You sit in the shade if you're hot, not the sun. Idiot."

"Kuro-rin, _hidoi_," Fay whined softly. With a pout, he dipped a hand in the water at his side and flicked droplets in Kurogane's direction. "I thought the lake would be cool. It's not _my_ fault the water is so warm."

He gave a mournful sigh and nuzzled deeper into the crook of his arm, where the blue shine couldn't reach his eyes. There was no magic in that sun that glowed purple at night and never set, but it ached. He'd felt it from the moment they arrived. There was something wrong with how it remained frozen in the sky, shining down on them all heavy and sore, in a way that wasn't nearly unpleasant enough. And silly Kuro-rin thought it was his fault.

He'd let him keep thinking that. Kuro was less intrusive when he felt guilty. Less curious when he was being gruff and resentful. It was useful because Fay wasn't in the mood for banter, didn't have the energy to spend the day dancing around Kuro-rin's sharp verbal jabs.

They'd only be in this world another day or two at most. Whatever effect that blue sun had was a slow poison, nothing that would matter without prolonged exposure. It would take months, years even, before they were as darkened, crippled, and aged as that native woman with her core of magic she could sense but couldn't use. She'd immediately taken the kids into the shelter of the village, so it wasn't as if he were putting anyone in danger by keeping quiet. The sun wasn't having any effect on Kurogane, besides making him a tad grumpier than usual. Though, he had to admit, he was partially to blame for that.

Kurogane had finally broken last night, and the timing couldn't have been worse. He'd been far too mellow for far too long. Fay had tried to explain to him that all that frustration just wasn't healthy. Too much temptation could drive a man to madness. He would know. He was something of an expert on the subject. Put a hungry man in close daily contact with something he knows he can eat, but doesn't want to eat unless he has to, and by the time he gives in, well, it wasn't pretty. Messy, really. Whatever he gorged on was likely to come right back up. And then he'd still be starving, only he'd have nothing left to eat. Really, Kuro-rin should know better.

Not that it had been bad. What Fay remembered of it. Just messy. Awkward, even for them. The mood had been strange, just a little off, and he'd been too tired to try and fix it. He actually wondered if Kurogane hadn't purposely waited till they were in a world where he felt heavy and slow to try extending something better kept short and sweet.

Kurogane thought too much. He was always thinking too much, even when he shouldn't have been thinking at all. Fay had known that, of course. It was one of the first things he'd noticed. Kuro watched when he didn't seem to be watching. He was concerned when he tried to appear impassive. And he was far too curious for his own good. Too interested in figuring him out. Trying to keep him at a distance was like trying to evade a wolf pack while carrying a fresh kill. The simplest way to handle it was to taint the meat and give some to them. It might fill their stomachs, but once the after taste kicked in, they wouldn't want to follow that scent anymore.

In some ways it worked on Kurogane, in others it didn't. For all his blustering, the big puppy was more a hound than a wolf. He didn't follow because of hunger alone. There was a sense of responsibility in there, almost as if he thought he was obligated to know and watch and approach. His purpose in life was to serve and protect his princess, and he'd transferred that onto the kids. Fay understood that. It was one of those things that made Kurogane so attractive. He adhered to his sense of responsibility all the while trying to hide behind an aloof, proud, and harsh facade. Just pointing out the effort he'd put into training Syaoran was enough to leave him blistering with embarrassment. He was adorable, really. Just the way he should be. What Fay didn't understand was why he felt the need to extend his responsibilities to include him.

It wasn't as if Kurogane liked him. From the very beginning Fay had done nothing but pick at him, tease him, treating him as a fond source of amusement. They were stuck together because they couldn't afford the price necessary to each get their own means of world traveling. Well, he _could_ have paid a higher price, but he hadn't been willing to. Fate had tossed them together and Fay had every intention of making the best of it, to enjoy himself for however long it lasted.

Unlike the rest of them, he had no purpose. No one relied on him for protection - Sakura-chan had Syaoran, Syaoran had Kurogane, however much Kuro-wanko tried to deny that he was always watching out for him, and Mokona...well, Mokona was just about indestructible and would be going home to Yuuko when Fay died, or when the feathers were collected, if Fay ended up leaving them before that happened. If Fay had any use to the group, it was in lightening the mood, keeping the broody three from getting too deep in their own problems. So he flitted and smiled and went along for the ride, and he knew Kuro-sama was disgusted by his very existence. That was the way it should be with such polar opposites.

He'd been naturally surprised to find out that Kurogane was attracted to him, despite the fact that he embodied everything Kuro didn't. He hadn't just been surprised. He'd been thrown, disappointed, even. Anger and lust went hand in hand, but disgust should have made him more liable to ignore him than to want him. He hadn't considered the possibility, hadn't planned for it, and he'd been in no position to remind Kuro why he really didn't want to be at all attracted to him. And he hadn't been about to let the opportunity pass. It was a shame. Shameful on his part.

He didn't mind taking advantage of Kuro's stoic nature, that easily stoked temper of his, and the promise that his fury wouldn't really deliver the painful death it threatened if he managed to catch him. Not that he'd let himself be caught. That would spoil the game for both of them. Kuro wouldn't give chase if he had to admit there was nothing behind the threats and Fay wouldn't provoke if there was no guarantee of a fun response. There was no harm in the sport. Sex was different. There shouldn't have been harm in that, either, but he'd been afraid there would be. Because Kurogane thought too much.

He was like a suspicious old courtier reading hidden motives in every gesture, lies in every smile as if no one should pretend to be happy simply because it felt good to be happy. Fay had met his kind before. They didn't wear their pain for the world to see, but they expected everyone else to. As if it were a matter of pride to wrap one's self up in what couldn't be helped and never take what little pleasure was there for the taking. His smiles were a personal affront. Cowardly lies. They didn't understand and they didn't care to understand.

Fay had never tried to explain himself. He felt far happier with a smile than he would have wrapped up in a pain that couldn't be helped. Maybe it was cowardly to be selfish. He didn't mind that. If it didn't hurt anyone, didn't lead him to fail anyone who needed him, he didn't mind that at all. There was no harm in it. The problem with Kurogane was there seemed to be harm in everything he did with the man.

When he built a wall around himself, it made Kuro more determined to tear it down. He'd give him what little he could to explain why he'd never know more, and why he didn't _want_ to know more, and Kuro took it as a sign to try harder, as if it were proof of eventual victory that Fay volunteered anything at all. And when he'd given in to the lust he'd seen in Kuro's eyes and left him resentful, with that bad aftertaste in his mouth, he'd somehow found even that a reason to redouble his efforts. The more he tried to push him away, the more Kurogane seemed dead set on finding a way in.

Last night worried him most because it was far too late to stop. He needed that relief. Moments, just moments where he could do nothing but feel. Pain, pleasure, and no thoughts. No memories or worries, no consideration for the consequences of his actions. Nothing but skin and heat and Kurogane, who gave as much as he took because that was who he was. Followed by silence, a dreamless sleep, and days after where the slightest ache reminded him of how it felt to have everything washed away. It was powerful, but clean and simple. Or it should have been. With Kurogane nothing worked the way it should.

Why did he have to be so curious, to read deeper into everything? To think so much? To take something that should have been simple sensation and turn it into a display of emotions? Emotions he shouldn't have been feeling at all.

That Kurogane was starting to feel for him hurt. It was cruel and unfair. He'd spent his entire life waiting, hoping for something like that, someone who had no use for him but cared anyway, and to think he might have found it just when he couldn't accept it was too painful. He didn't want Kurogane to feel responsible for him, obligated to risk himself for his sake, to feel guilty for anything that concerned him. He didn't want him to worry, to care for, to _feel_ for someone he didn't even like. It was too dangerous and unfair to him, to his princess, and to the people who were waiting for him to come home.

He wanted to pretend he'd imagined things. That the sun in this world was making him read too deep, like Kuro read too deep. That the long wait since their last encounter had just made Kuro want to draw things out a little more than usual. But he didn't think he could believe that any more than he could walk away. Because as many times as they'd been together, Kurogane had never touched him like that, looked at him as if they were doing something special and meaningful. He'd kissed his hair and the look in his eyes had made him want to push him back, push him away and just run until he couldn't breathe.

That was actually funny. Kuro-rin kissing his hair. He was almost tempted to ask him what he'd been thinking when he'd done that. It wasn't as if he could feel it. Kuro couldn't even pretend he'd missed his target because he'd been really deliberate about catching the strands and making sure Fay was looking at him. And that was where it wasn't funny at all. Deliberate. Too much thought. Emotional. Kuro seemed to think he was emotional during sex, but it was never deliberate. He just felt. That was the point. And that was the problem. Kurogane had made it clear with that kiss that he didn't just feel, that it was more than sensation. Fay had no idea what more there was, but he knew he didn't want to know. Because it was too late to stop.

He wouldn't seek him out anymore, but if Kurogane came to him, he wasn't going to turn him away. He couldn't. No more than he could stop smiling just so Kuro would have no irritation, no mystery to draw him closer with his puppy need to know things he was better off, safer off, not knowing. And maybe Kurogane was right to consider him a liar. Because if he were honest with himself, he knew he could have found a way to make Kurogane as indifferent toward him as Syaoran was. He still could. He didn't because it would be painful and he was too cowardly to hurt himself until he was in a corner with no other choice. He'd lose what little pleasure he got out of being with them, and he was too selfish to give that up even a day sooner than he had to.

So, really, he might as well make the best of it. He wasn't going to change, to do what he knew he should do. He'd just go on smiling and try not to make things worse than they were. A little emotional attachment just meant Kuro-chan would miss him as much as Sakura-chan would when they parted ways somewhere down the road. No reason to feel guilty over that. He knew he'd miss all of them more than they'd ever miss him. Except maybe Mokona. He could always count on sweet magical creatures to love him every bit as much as he loved them. Especially the ones that were practically indestructible.

Speaking of which...he should probably dress before Mokona and the kids came back. As fun as it was to pick on Kuro-rin, he didn't want Mokona accusing him of anything too explicit. Not in front of Sakura-chan. That just wasn't appropriate.

Fay stretched and grimaced playfully at the sticky sweat covering his skin. Kurogane probably thought he'd dozed off. Silly of him. They'd spent enough time together for him to know he never slept on his stomach, or anywhere without a solid surface at his back, be it a wall, a tree, or a big scowling puppy. He hadn't moved when Kuro covered him because - despite the pleasant ache bathing in that blue sun gave him - he didn't really want to be pink and blistered all week.

And this way he'd get to hear Kuro-rin gripe about his damp cloak smelling like sweaty Fay for the rest of the night. Fun! Maybe if he poked him enough, he'd finally snap and dump him in the lake. Yeah, he'd seen those sideways glares Kuro had been sending him earlier. Kuro had a lot of restraint the day after, especially when the kids weren't around. But all the frustration that came from resisting temptation just wasn't healthy. Besides, Fay looked forward to dragging Kuro-pii into the water with him. Before that, he'd ask him about that kinky hair fetish of his. That was bound to set things off nicely.

_**.-.**_

**Notes:** I found a Kurogane-Fay doujinshi that almost illustrates the sort of angsty smutt I referred to in the first chapter of this fic. You can see it on my website in the 'downloads' section. Just be warned that it's explicit and I don't have a translation for what they're saying.


End file.
